The Real Housewives of New York City recap: Let's Hear it for the Band!

The last five minutes of this otherwise tedious episode were like an unexpected Christmas gift. But before we get to the waggling Santas on Raomona’s head, and the jolly foul idiots who want themselves some Housewife ass, let’s begin at the banal beginning. Who’s up for another branding session?! (No one.) Sonja had a little surprise for the friend who as far as we know donated her time and people free of charge to help Sonja with her logo and packaging. Didn’t see a Ramona sneak attack coming, did you Heather! Sonja sat through the meeting with a puzzled look on her face. Where was her sexy J? Ramona waited for a lull in the conversation so she could bring up the importance of always keeping a spare notepad in your purse. That way you could doodle horses and wine bottles in one and spell Ramona in bubble letters in the other. How do you think she came up with her logo? Sonja and Ramona weren’t sure about using some guy’s hot naked torso to hawk a toaster oven. Would it appeal to Grandmas?, they worried. You want the grandkids, said the branding expert. Ah, Abercrombie & Fitch, said Sonja. Ah, bad TV, said I.

Ramona continued to make Heather pay for not inviting her to London. She and Mario arranged a fancy dinner at Le Cirque, where Aviva married the infamous Harry she awkwardly let everyone know, for the rest of the group. LuAnn started talking about her roots and mentioned several times that she was part American Indian. Carole did not approve. Any third grader worth her salt knows not to use that expression when talking about Native Americans. Hear hear, echoed Mario, eager to please. (This from the guy who two weeks ago was making fun of Jacques for having one of them their accent deals. Stupid Frenchie.) Carole was laying the righteousness on a little thick but then LuAnn didn’t help matters by doing war cries and purring “Careful with your scalp, baby.” That was her Native American Austin Powers impression. But LuAnn refused to be judged. Is it politically correct to call people dahling? No, but she does it anyways. Case closed.

“So we have a special wine this evening,” Mario announced, showboating to the table. “Besides everything else,” interrupted Ramona. (Classic Singer! Even when she’s being generous she needs everyone to acknowledge the extent of her generosity.) Yeah, yeah, yeah, $1400 bottle of red. Ramona’s the classiest. She knows her wine. On the subject, Mario swelled up nice and big and let Jacques know that he didn’t appreciate his little caper at the wine tasting. Time for Countess to powder her nose! Mario huffed and puffed while both Jacques and Ramona looked uncomfortable. Mario convinced himself that standing up for his woman like this would make up for that time on Season 1 when he ogled lady passersby on the street while out to dinner with his wife.

NEXT: Oh Housewives. Get a Life & Style.

At long last we get a good look at the infamous Harry Dubin, Housewives Slayer. What followed may have been the lousiest two minutes of a lousy season. It’s one thing that we’re forced to endure these women relentlessly pimping their brands and products. Now we have to be subjected to their ex-husband’s ridiculous pitches as well? Poopy the Pig is not going to end up paying for Harrison’s college, Aviva. Sorry. And that butt dance, where the pig’s cheeks split disturbingly into swiveling mounds of ice cream scoops, was pornographic.

Heather and her branding goon decided to break up with Sonja. She made the mistake though of back door approaching the woman though, humming in her honey condescending voice that she was perhaps getting in the way of Sonja’s vision and so should bow out. Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up. “When I saw Heather trying to back out I was not happy,” said Sonja. She thought Heather was a confident businesswoman. She thought the client was always right. She thought she was a client. Heather looked dumbstruck as Sonja steam-rolled over their rejection of her. It was a formidable display. Brava Sonja, you blowsy nutball.

Carole was relegated to the obligatory in-between-commercials snippet. She wants an assistant. The end.

Finally LuAnn hosted a Christmas party so she could gather coats for some less fortunate people and show off her spread in Life & Style magazine. Before the party hit its stride there was a brief hiccup where LuAnn and Ramona rehashed the whole wine tasting event. LuAnn tried to convince Ramona she’d enjoyed herself at the party. Ramona insisted that it’s only because she’s such an amazing person that she didn’t get furious. “The fact that I’m not like screaming and throwing this wine in your face is a pretty different Ramona,” she reasoned. Uh, sounds reasonable. The only things that made this scene bearable were the ridiculous reindeer antlers on LuAnn’s head and Ramona’s cotton puff Santas, who appeared to be rolling their eyes at each other about the jabbering broads before them .The conversation looked in danger of escalating, so Ramona invoked her God-given rights as a Housewife. “I’m holding the fifth on this one,” she announced. “Holding the fifth!”

Later the Housewives crowded into a banquette and Jacques swooped in to give his wittle wild Indian a kiss. “I don’t believe it! I don’t believe it!” shouted Sonja. Poor Sons was drunk, which mean she kept slurring about how she loved LuAnn so much, soooo much!, and she didn’t want that mean boy to hurt her. Heather smiled like a maniac. Aviva looked perplexed. Sonja was on a roll of mess. “You are French. Jewish! I know a lot of Jewish men they want babies. Moroccans want babies. Jewish men want babies.” At this point Ramona moved Sonja’s wine glass out of reach so if that doesn’t tell you how bad it was nothing will. “You should be a man and get out now if you’re not serious.” Jacques smiled at her with friendly condescension. “You’re right, and I will,” he assured. LuAnn looked at him nervously, not sure what that mean.

Time for some out-of-tune Christmas caroling! Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, I want to f*** you in the ass! “Excuse me no. No! Christmas songs,” cried LuAnn, as she flung her antler headband to the ground in protest. “Those aren’t Santa’s helpers,” said Sonja, as the three mohawked idiots smiled and screamed their way through their demands of coochie. “They’re naughty!” declared Ramona. “Naughty! No presents!” The next day Bravo sent each of those young men a fruit basket.

Next week: Surprise! Ramona and Heather have words.

Well friends? Did the end make up for the beginning? Is Sonja on the verge of losing it? Is there any hope for Poopy the Pig? How about for Sonja’s future as a toaster oven mogul? Will Jacques ever make an honest Indian out of LuAnn? (Not unless the cameras are rolling!)